


Recipe For The Man You Should Marry

by orphan_account



Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF, Valdaya
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The little, seemingly insignificant things are often overlooked in the moment, yet those are often what are most important in the long run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recipe For The Man You Should Marry

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by inkskinned's post on Tumblr, which can be found here: 
> 
> http://inkskinned.tumblr.com/post/77095246627/1-date-a-boy-who-makes-you-happy-but-marry-him
> 
> This is fiction, not reality.

_“Date a boy who makes you happy, but marry him only if he makes you laugh deep-belly rumbles that hurt your ribs as they expand outwards. Date him when he sees that you’re hurting and he gives you a moment to feel the pain like a handprint spreading across you consciousness, marry him only if he can make you smile even while you’re gross sobbing. The world is not a kind place. You will feel a lot of pain. Make sure you are with someone who makes it bearable. Humor is an excellent gauge of intelligence. Life gets boring. Find someone who makes the banal interesting.”_

Kazembe held her as she cried. 

He had comforted her as an infant, when she had wanted her basic needs tended to, as a toddler, when she had taken her first steps before tumbling to the floor, and as a child, when she had fallen off her bike and scraped her knee.  He had always been there to pick her back up, tending to her bruises before sending her on her way.  She had been largely independent, even then, and he had done his best to encourage that.  There would eventually come a time when he would not be there; he wanted her to know that she could rely on him but also show capability on her own. 

As she had grown older, those moments of weeping became less and less frequent.  She learned to internalize her feelings and hide them away, no matter how poorly she was feeling.  He and Claire were the only people who she felt comfortable showing her fears, angers, and tears in front of.  He could tell when something was really affecting her, because only then did she come to him for advice or support. 

They had always been close, but after they had moved to LA their bond had only intensified.  They had worked together and played together.  Sitting in the kitchen, the setting sun shining in through the apartment window, they had discussed her dreams with a Monopoly board spread out between them.  Functioning as an educational experience paired with fun, they had kept that one game going for over a year.  He would play his drums in the evening while she sat beside him, her head dropping against his shoulder as she fell asleep.  Although that time had not been easy, those moments had made everything else fall away, at least for a little while.  And when she had gotten the part of Rocky, the smile on her face had made everything worth it. 

When she had been asked to do  _Dancing with the Stars,_ he and Claire had been more than a little hesitant.  They had watched Roshon’s season and had seen just how much of a commitment it was.  With her music, her show, and her school work, they did not know if she should add one more thing to the list.  But they had brought her up to be independent and to defend her opinions and she had wanted to compete so badly. 

And then  _he_  had entered their lives, with his passion for dance and philosophical mindset.  While they had been anxious at first about him being partnered with her, he had proved to be good for her.  He encouraged her silliness, at times even adding to it, before gently guiding their rehearsals back to a serious learning space.  When she was frustrated, he was able to soothe her.  When she was upset about their scores, he was able to tease her into laughter.

Each was able to get beneath the other’s veneer and they built a bond that he had never foreseen.  At the beginning, they had merely been teacher and student.  By the end, they had become friends and partners, evenly matched in every sense.  He had recognized in her a maturity that made her exceptional for her age, as well as a drive and focus that could match his.  She had learned life lessons from him that would translate into her actions and attitudes later in life. 

Both had been inspired. 

Watching him with his daughter, Kazembe had resolved that, in the end, he and Claire had made the right decision in letting her join the Season 16 cast.  But now, holding her in the hallway as she sobbed her heart out, he wondered if it had been a mistake. 

Her head was tucked under his chin and her hands clutched the front of his shirt as her tears stained the cloth.  Claire stood beside them, rubbing her back soothingly.  For once, he was incapable of forming words to comfort her.  He felt completely helpless. 

“Zendayachka.” 

She turned, as if gravitating towards him, as soon as she heard his voice.  He was there, walking towards them, his brow still wet with perspiration from their final performance.  Kazembe felt the absence keenly as his daughter threw herself into the arms of another man.  He held her tightly, pressing a kiss to her neck.  She sniffled, pushing herself closer to him. 

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” he asked. 

Kazembe looked to his wife and, when she nodded, they turned and walked away.  While he had always known that she would grow to rely on others more than him, he could not help the melancholy wave that swept over him.  He felt like he had been replaced. 

* * *

He whispered to her in Russian as he led her away from the stage.  She did not pay attention to where he was leading her.  She trusted him implicitly; she would follow him anywhere.  A cool breeze swept over them as he led her outside and to his trailer.  He sat her down on the couch, handing her a bottle of water before joining her. 

“Zendayachka, please stop crying,” he murmured, wiping her tears away.  She hiccupped, her eyes downcast as another tear slid down her cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“It’s okay, I just can’t stand seeing you this upset.”

“Not for that, for…”

“For what?”  He leaned down, unsuccessfully trying to meet her gaze.  He tilted her face up and her eyes flickered up to look at him. 

“Hey,” he said quietly.  “For what?”

“I let you down.”  She watched as his eyes widened.   

“Baby, no.  You couldn’t let me down even if you tried.”  She shook her head, obviously disagreeing, and he cupped her face with his hands in order to stop the movement. 

“Do you know what I’m going to remember from this season?  Our rehearsals, with your laughter and my ‘grumpiness,’” he said, using her favorite adjective to describe him.  A fleeting smile graced her lips before slipping away. 

“Our performances, where I could just lose myself in the dance and not have to worry about guiding my celebrity through them.  Our interviews, where you’d tease me and call me a gummy bear.”  A short giggle broke out at that.

“There it is,” he said, brushing his thumb against her upturned lips.  “That’s what I want to see right now.”  She swallowed, taking in the intensity in his eyes.  He glanced up at her, trying to gauge her emotional state, and noticed that no new tears had fallen. 

“How are you not pissed right now?” she asked.  “How are you not upset?”

“Oh I am.  But you needed me and right now that’s more important than my own feelings.”  A small smile graced her lips, filled with gratitude and affection.  It was just…so  _him._

“I am so proud of you, Zendayachka.  Don’t ever feel like you let me down.  If anyone let us down, it was the show itself.”  He paused, making sure that sank in.  “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah…I just really wanted to win.”  

_For you._ She did not say it, but it hung in the air as though she had. 

“I did too.” 

_All for you._ He avoided the words too, though he felt them as keenly as the cut on his eyebrow.  She must have understood though, because she reached down linked her fingers with his.  They sat in silence for a few minutes, just appreciating the fact that they were in each other’s company.  In a few days, that would no longer be the case and they both knew that the coming weeks were going to be difficult.   

“Hey, Grouchy Pants?” she asked.  He could not help but smile at her and her lips turned up to match his. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you…you know, for everything.” 

_She_  was thanking  _him_?  After she had helped him believe in himself again, helped him rediscover a part of himself that he thought that he had lost?  He untangled their fingers in order to wrap his arm around her, pulling her into his side. 

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he said, “No, baby.  Thank you.” 

When he pulled back, she tilted her head towards her shoulder and smiled.


End file.
